


The Last Squire

by rusty_armour



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Humor, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gisburne is catapulted into adventure when he tries to hunt down a vagabond and meets up with an old questing knight instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Squire

**Author's Note:**

> This story first appeared in Raconteur and was inspired by the numerous Arthurian stories and productions that I had been exposed to over the years. I also did a bit of research on Chivalric Romances before writing this fic. Okay, maybe the story doesn't read that way, but I really did do some research for this thing!
> 
> © 2001

Much perched miserably in the tree. The hood from his tunic provided little protection from the rain. It was early April, and with those first buds of spring came mist, drizzle and downpours. The young man shivered as his wet clothing clung closely to his goose-pimpled skin. He thought of his friends huddled close to the fire or tucked away in the cave. Why had they insisted he keep watch? Who would possibly choose to travel on a day like this? Even tax collectors took shelter from the rain.

"That's it," Much said through chattering teeth. "If they want to keep watch, they can sit out in the rain!"

Much glanced at the road one last time and froze. Then he pushed the heavy soaked hood from his head as if he feared his eyes were deceiving him. From the tree's branches, Much could see a man on horseback or, more precisely, a knight upon his charger. The glint of chain-mail almost caused Much a moment of panic, but then he realized that it wasn't a knight he had met before. This man's cloak wasn't blue but burgundy, and the horse he rode was white not black. In addition, this knight was indulging in an activity Gisburne would never engage in: he was singing.

Much slipped from the tree and, stepping over puddles, he crept towards the road. He had always found music irresistible.

The voice had a deep, rich timbre. Much crouched silently in some bushes and carefully brushed some leaves aside. He expected to see a young robust warrior, but, on closer inspection, he observed an old man with a barrel chest.

"_I could not easily be consoled, Fair Knight, once I had left you in sorrow_," the man sang, "_for my heart is not inclined to anyone else, nor does my desire lead me elsewhere, for I desire no other..._" [1]

The white horse neighed loudly and the knight laughed. "I never claimed to be a troubadour, my friend." The horse snorted and tossed his head. Suddenly, the knight pulled sharply on the reins. A peasant with a longbow had just appeared on the road.

"Greetings," the knight said.

The peasant smiled shyly. "I like your singing," Much said.

The knight seemed taken aback at first, but he quickly recovered. "Why, thank you. You have admirable taste for a serf."

"I'm not a serf," Much explained. "I'm an outlaw."

"Ah...I suppose that's why you carry a bow. I thought you were just a poacher. Well, go ahead and shoot me, boy. I'm not afraid."

Much's brow creased in confusion. "I'm not going to shoot you."

The knight drew himself up indignantly. "I'm prepared to die."

Much gaped up at the knight. He was beginning to wish he had summoned the others. They would know what to make of this strange knight. Much decided to follow the path that always seemed to serve his friends best. He quickly notched an arrow and raised his bow.

"Give me your money," Much said, trying to sound bold.

"But I haven't got any."

"Oh."

"I don't need it," the knight replied.

Much tried to remain disinterested, but his curiosity overwhelmed his better judgment. "Why?" he asked.

"I cannot attain what I seek with silver or gold."

"You can't?"

"No."

Much scratched his head and a drop of water rolled down his nose. He shivered.

"You're soaking wet," the knight said, seemingly oblivious to his own sorry state. "You should seek shelter before you catch your death."

"Yes, I suppose I should." He studied the knight, still debating what to do with him. He couldn't leave him on the road. Robin would never do that. "Come on," Much said at last. "You'd better come with me."

  


* * * * 

  
Robert de Rainault sneered at the tall dripping figure. The pathetic creature had presented itself to him briefly before darting over to the inviting glow of the hearth.

"Well?" the Sheriff demanded.

The knight rubbed his icy hands together but said nothing. _His teeth must be chattering_, the Sheriff thought, who was in a generous enough mood to excuse his steward's lapse in manners. Of course, warm dry clothes and a goblet of wine usually improved the spirit.

"My-my lord..."

_Ah, now the teeth were chattering._

"I'll catch him. He'll be hiding in one of the villages, or may-maybe somewhere in Nottingham."

"I don't see why it matters. He isn't from this shire. Is it worth catching your death in order to catch one vagabond? He isn't our concern, Gisburne."

"I won't have criminals in this shire," Gisburne said gruffly.

"Oh, won't you, Gisburne?" The Sheriff poured some more wine into his goblet. "Do you really think the King cares about one petty criminal when he has to contend with Llwelyn? Why, even Robin Hood has become a secondary concern."

"Hmm...Robin Hood," the knight muttered. "My lord, do you think he might have joined the wolfsheads?"

The Sheriff directed an icy glare at his steward, wishing the fire had taken the chill from Gisburne's bones, for it might have been worth the effort, then.

"He could be in Sherwood," Gisburne persisted, a sneeze adding emphasis to his statement. "May I be excused, my lord?" he added quietly. The Sheriff scowled and dismissed the knight with a wave of his hand. Gisburne headed quickly to his chamber, his shoes squelching on the stairs. He hurried down the drafty corridors and, when he finally reached his chamber, he burst eagerly through the door.

"Who are you?" he exclaimed.

A pretty, young woman, with dark hair and eyes, turned to face him. She might have been a welcome sight if she wasn't blocking the wardrobe.

  


* * * * 

  
The rain had stopped. The outlaws stumbled out of the cave like a family of sleepy bears. John yawned and Will rubbed his eyes with both fists. Tuck and Nasir carried out the stag they had killed before the weather had turned: the stag Tuck had insisted on dragging into the cave despite everyone's objections.

Robin stepped out after Tuck and Nasir. He looked at the gloomy sky and the heavy dripping trees. He was sorely tempted to turn back. Then he remembered. "I'd better check on Much."

John winced, looking guilty. "Aye, the poor lad must be soaked through."

"I'll cook some stew," Tuck said over the stag's back. "That should warm his belly."

Will, who was as protective towards Much as an older brother might be, had resolved to find some dry clothes for his friend. However, his intentions changed when they entered the camp and found Much and a stranger seated comfortably before the fire.

"Who's 'e?" Will shouted, thrusting a finger in the air.

"I am Sir George de Giraut," the knight answered. "This young man took me prisoner."

"Much, you should have signalled to us first," Robin said. "You could have been hurt."

Sir George chuckled. "Oh, there was no chance of that happening, I'm afraid. He had an arrow aimed at my heart almost instantly."

John ruffled Much's curls good-naturedly. "Only 'almost instantly'? You're slipping, lad."

"You robbed him at least, didn't you?" Will demanded.

"I couldn't," Much said. "He didn't have any money."

"Yes, it's true," Sir George admitted, smiling at the outlaws. "I fear you'll have no choice but to kill me."

"Kill you?" Tuck cried. "We're not going to kill you!"

"It's quite all right. I understand, brother. As a man of the cloth, would you permit me to say a short prayer first?"

"We are not going to kill you," Robin stated firmly.

"Oh, Heavenly Father," the knight began.

"We aren't going to kill you," Robin repeated. "I promise."

"...please grant me the strength – "

"He's mad," Will muttered. "Completely mad..."

Suddenly Sir George was on his feet. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes blazing. "I'm not mad!" he protested furiously. "I fought at Acre and Ascalon! I was with Richard when he defeated Saladin! I once faced eight men in a drunken brawl!"

"I faced twelve," Will retorted, rubbing the back of his head as if he still remembered the fight. The knight's face fell for an instant, but then he managed to rally his courage again.

"It's fortunate that you have faced a dozen men. You'll need all of your strength when I challenge you."

Will laughed. "Challenge me?"

Sir George reached for his sword, the one Much had neglected to collect from him. Scarlet favoured Sir George with an unpleasant leer.

"Will!" Robin said.

"What?" the outlaw snarled, whipping around to face his leader.

Robin was shaking his head emphatically. Will grumbled a protest, but he obeyed Robin's command all the same. Sir George watched in astonishment as the hot-tempered outlaw stormed away.

"What's the meaning of this?" the knight asked angrily, his dark eyes narrowing.

"You must forgive me, my lord," Robin said. "It was selfish of me to interfere, but good men are hard to find and I couldn't risk losing this one."

"What are you talking about?" Will shouted from across the camp. "That's a load of 'ogwash, that is!"

"Oh, I see," Sir George replied. He had been so enthralled by Robin's explanation that he had barely noticed Scarlet's outburst. He studied Robin, appraising the young man. "You're of noble birth!"

"'E's an earl's son," Will spat, seeking revenge.

Robin shot him a dirty look, but it was too late.

"An earl's son! But this can't be true! Why, to live in the forest like an animal, you'd have to be...to be..."

"Robin Hood?" the outlaw suggested.

"That's it!" Sir George cried, clapping Robin on the shoulder. "You're a clever young man, aren't you?"

"I try to be."

"Well, don't try to be too clever, or you'll find your head in a noose."

"Thank you," Robin answered, trying to keep a straight face. "I'll try to remember that. But, come, you must be hungry. Eat with us."

"I can't. I'm fasting."

"Fasting!" Tuck cried in horror.

"Yes. You see, I'm on a quest."

Will and John stared at the knight, then sputtered with laughter. Sir George flushed again and Tuck leapt in before their guest could issue another challenge. "A quest, my lord? Why, then, you must eat with us. You need to keep up your strength."

"Hmm...perhaps you are right, brother," Sir George said. "I'll begin fasting once I've found my squire."

"You lost your squire?" John howled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Lost him? Well, of course I haven't lost him! I know exactly where he is or, at least, I think I do..." Sir George said, suddenly seeming rather anxious.

Robin handed him a cup of water. "When did you last see your squire, Sir George?" he asked gently.

The knight glanced at him in surprise. Then his brow furrowed. "Well, now, let me think...It couldn't have been more than six or seven years ago..."

  


* * * * 

  
"You really don't remember me, do you?" the lady said, taking a step forward.

"Should I?" Gisburne studied her closely and shivered.

"Get out of those clothes, Guy."

"What?"

"You're chilled to the bone," the lady replied with a smile. She brushed past him and headed for the door. "I'll return when you're more suitably attired."

Gisburne heard the door shut, but he remained transfixed to the spot. If her skirts hadn't swept against him when she'd passed, he might have believed that the lady was a dream. He might just as well have been asleep, for he moved to his wardrobe in a trance, barely noticing what articles he removed from it.

He dressed slowly, his mind not on the task. He was just stepping into his left shoe when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

It opened and the lady walked into his chamber.

"Look, who are you?" Gisburne demanded. "What do you want?"

"Your help."

A pair of eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why? What's happened?"

The lady looked down, studying her hands. "My grandfather has disappeared," she said quietly. "I believe he's heading to Nottingham...to see you."

"Me? Why?" Gisburne stared at her, confused. "Who is your grandfather?"

"He is Sir George de Giraut," the lady explained calmly.

"Enide?" Gisburne cried in astonishment.

She smiled again, her lips curling in an almost feral smirk. "So, you remember me after all."

"But...but...the last time I saw you, you were-were – "

"A little girl with freckles, tangled hair and a grubby surcoat?"

"Uh...yes," the knight admitted.

"Well, I'm not a little girl anymore, Guy."

"No, you certainly aren't," Gisburne agreed, casting an appreciative glance at her body. Another lady might have blushed, but not Enide. She had spent much of her life among boys and men. She had been raised by a man and, now that she had entered womanhood, she found that she understood men or, at least, their weaknesses. She decided to close the distance between them. Gisburne watched her approach in wonder, then almost jumped back in surprise when she laid a hand on his chest.

"I'm so glad you remember me," Enide said. "It's much more awkward asking for help from a stranger. You'll help me find him, won't you? My grandfather was very fond of you. You were his favourite. I'm certain."

Gisburne grunted a retort. "I was not!"

"Well, you were his last squire," Enide argued, a little impatiently. "That has to mean something."

"I'll tell you what it means," Gisburne said, moving away from her hand. "If Sir George comes here, I'll encourage him to return home."

"Encourage? Surely, you mean _force_, Guy!"

"But he's Sir George!"

"Exactly! Do you think a few words of encouragement will stay him from his course?"

"Course? What course?"

"Well...I don't know exactly, but it's madness and folly, I tell you! Oh, you must stop him!"

"The Sheriff might spare some men," Gisburne suggested, sounding doubtful.

"No!" Enide commanded firmly. "No one must know! I will not have him dishonoured. We must keep this to ourselves." Enide gazed at Gisburne pleadingly, and then the door burst open.

"My lord, the-Oh, I didn't realize that..." A guard stood awkwardly in the doorway, his eyes fastened on the lady.

"What?" Gisburne asked irritably.

"My lord, the wanted man, the-the vagabond..."

"Yes?"

"He was seen in the alehouse down the street!"

"When?"

"About an hour ago."

"See that my horse is saddled."

"Yes, my lord." The guard backed away gratefully, and Enide immediately grasped Gisburne's arm.

"Guy," she said, "my grandfather – "

"Will have to wait," Gisburne replied brusquely, pulling his arm away.

Enide followed him to the door, only to have it slam in her face. "Guy!" she shouted furiously. "Ooooh!"

  


* * * * 

  
"Have some more meat, my lord," Tuck suggested, having warmed to their guest's healthy appetite.

"Thank you, brother," Sir George said. "I must compliment you on this fine repast." Then he sighed when he remembered his fast.

"My lord, what is this quest that requires such sacrifice?" Tuck asked.

The knight accepted another portion and chewed thoughtfully a few times before answering. "I have heard tell of a reliquary that belonged to Saint Cuthbert. I mean to find this sacred object if I have to travel the whole of England to do so."

"A worthy quest, indeed!" Tuck said.

Robin sounded less enthusiastic. "Why did you choose this quest?"

Sir George hesitated and, for a moment, Robin thought that the knight was trying to evade the question. Then, he regarded the outlaw with mournful eyes. "My son spent his last days at Durham Cathedral. The monks told me that he saw Saint Cuthbert before he died and that this brought him great comfort. If I can find the reliquary and return it to the cathedral, I will also die happy."

There was an uncomfortable silence that was finally dispelled by Scarlet.

"Saint Cuthbert?" Will said. "Ain't he dead?"

"Yes, Will," Tuck answered wryly.

"Like 'is squire?"

"My squire isn't dead!" Sir George stated indignantly. "Do you think I would travel all the way to Nottingham if that was true?"

Robin started laughing, almost choking on his venison. "His squire isn't dead," Robin gasped, as John thumped him vigorously on the back. "You saw him in Wickham four days ago."

"What?" his friends cried.

"Haven't you worked it out yet?"

Everyone shook their heads except Tuck, whose eyes grew wide in wonder.

"No! It can't be! Do you really think so?"

"It has to be."

"Who is it?" John demanded.

Robin grinned mercilessly, but Will had already begun to follow his line of reasoning.

"What?" Will cried. "Gisburne?"

"That's it!" Sir George said, slapping his thigh. "Edmond of Gisburne!"

"Edmond!" Tuck exclaimed.

"No...that isn't right..."

"Guy?" Robin suggested helpfully.

"Of course! I could never forget him! It was almost a fortnight before he even came close to hitting that quintain! It was strange because he could outride all the other boys. I wonder how he managed to master it in the end..."

"Gisburne?" Will and John questioned in disbelief.

"Hmm...Yes, but not Edmond...Ah, I remember! Good man to have in a battle, though he was an appalling brute. "

"Let me get this straight," Will said, who was still having trouble grasping the situation. "You're going to ask Gisburne to go on...on...?"

"A quest," Tuck said.

"This quest with you?"

Sir George nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"And you think 'e'll go?"

"He has to. There is no one else."

"But...there has to be!" Will said.

"No, I'm afraid there isn't. More than half of my squires are dead. The others refused outright. Guy is the only one left."

"Well, he is good at finding crosses," John joked, punching Will in the arm.

"Yeah, very good," Will grumbled, still mortified that he had believed Gisburne and his men were lepers.

"Is he really?" Sir George asked in excitement.

"Aye," John said. "He took – "

Tuck cut him off quickly. "John..."

"Uh...I suppose you'll find out soon enough."

"I'm looking forward to it!" Sir George answered, oblivious to the outlaws' remorseful glances. He stood and stretched. "Well, I had better be on my way. As you have reminded me numerous times that I am a guest and not a prisoner, I'd better go before I wear out my welcome."

"No, don't let him go!" Much cried, already imagining Sir George languishing in the dungeon.

"Why, what's the matter?" the knight asked, turning abruptly on his heel.

"We can't let you leave, Sir George," Robin said.

"I thought you said I was a guest."

"You are, which is why we insist you stay. Gisburne will still be in Nottingham tomorrow."

The knight raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I stay here for the night?"

"You may have to sleep in worse places once you start on your quest," Tuck argued.

"Hmm...this is true."

"And we'd love to hear more about Saint Cuthbert's reliquary," Robin added.

"Hey!" Will protested.

"And all about your squire...Guy."

A beautiful grin spread across Scarlet's face. Suddenly, both he and John were leading Sir George back to the fire, while Tuck scooped out another helping of stew.

  


* * * * 

  
"My lord, we've searched everywhere. The man is gone."

The knight shut his eyes for a moment in exasperation, and the mailed fingers curled into fists. "Did you see him leave?" he said, his head turning quickly towards the fidgety alehouse keeper, who started and almost dropped the tankard of ale he was cradling in his hands. "Well?" Gisburne demanded sharply.

"No, my lord," the alehouse keeper admitted, "but I think I know how he made his escape."

Gisburne's eyes narrowed. "How?"

The alehouse keeper swallowed then stroked the tankard of ale as if it were a talisman. "There's a window from one of the rooms above. A man might climb through it if he had a mind to, my lord."

"Are you suggesting that he flew out the window?" Gisburne asked coldly.

The alehouse keeper flushed and instantly broke into laughter. "No, my lord! There's never been a man born who can do that!" The alehouse keeper lowered his tankard and walked towards the wooden stairs. "If you'd be so good as to follow me, my lord, I'll show you what I mean."

The knight exchanged a glance with his captain, who might have shrugged if he dared. "Have your men search all of Nottingham," Gisburne instructed. "I'll come when I can."

"Yes, my lord. If he's in Nottingham, we'll find him."

The knight nodded and dismissed his captain.

"My lord?" the alehouse keeper inquired, a foot resting on the first stair.

"All right, I'm coming," Gisburne snapped.

The harried alehouse keeper rushed up the stairs as Gisburne's long rapid strides threatened to overtake him. "This way, my lord," the alehouse keeper said breathlessly, once they had reached the top.

The nobleman swept past him, bursting into the room the alehouse keeper indicated.

It was a tiny dank place, with a simple pallet in the corner. A shutter rattled in the wind. Gisburne moved to the window, pushing it open. He gazed down at the street below, but all he saw were some men taking down a stall.

"Well?" Gisburne demanded.

"Can't you see it, my lord?" the voice behind him asked.

"See what?"

"The sweetmeat stall!"

"Well, of course I can see it! I'm not blind! What of it?"

"That's how he did it, my lord," the alehouse keeper explained patiently.

Gisburne turned around to face him. "What? You mean he jumped on top of it?"

The alehouse keeper nodded enthusiastically. "It's happened before. The soldiers were chasing one of the outlaws and..." The alehouse keeper trailed off when he realized he had said too much.

"Are you telling me that this inn harbours wolfsheads?" Gisburne said quietly.

"No, my lord!"

"Because if it does," the knight continued, as if the alehouse keeper hadn't spoken, "you would receive a heavy fine – "

"Oh, my lord!"

" – and I would probably arrest you." Gisburne glared at the trembling alehouse keeper for a moment, then dismissed him with a scowl. "I don't have time for this. I'll deal with you later."

"Yes, my lord," the alehouse keeper answered meekly, collapsing on the pallet as the knight stormed from the room.

Gisburne wasn't happy. Market day, with all its crowds and numerous attractions, would have provided the vagabond with several opportunities to blend in and elude the soldiers. Gisburne leaned on the second floor railing miserably. Even if he could find a dozen witnesses, he might never find the vagabond. He sighed deeply, wondering if should consider jumping himself, when a flourish of silk caught his attention. A lady had just entered the alehouse, but not just any lady.

Gisburne stared at her in astonishment as she surveyed the alehouse calmly. Then she lifted her head to meet his eyes. He headed quickly for the stairs; she was there to meet him when he reached the bottom.

"What are you doing here?" Gisburne said.

"I grew tired of waiting." Enide looked around again and smiled sweetly. "It seems your vagabond grew tired too." Gisburne said nothing, but she could read the answer plainly enough on his face. "Never mind. You'll catch him, Guy."

"Yes," Gisburne muttered. "I'll catch him." He walked to the nearest table, ignoring the drunk man underneath it. Enide followed, pulling out a chair. Gisburne chose to lean against the tabletop instead.

"Why do you do it, Guy?"

"Do what?" Gisburne asked, distractedly. A suspicious-looking youth was claiming most of his attention.

"Why do you chase these rogues, these outlaws?"

Gisburne pulled his eyes away from the boy and focused on Enide again. "They've broken the law. They must be brought to justice."

"But why is it so important?"

"Why is it so important?" Gisburne exclaimed, parroting her words.

"I meant why is it so important to _you_?"

"I told you. They're – "

"You once told me that when you became a knight, you would go on a crusade and fight in the Holy Land."

Gisburne's forehead creased. "I told you this?"

"Yes," Enide said firmly.

"Well, I don't remember."

"You were drunk."

Gisburne laughed. "You shouldn't believe anything a man says when he's drunk."

"I believed you. I think you were telling the truth."

"So what if I was? There aren't any crusades now. No one's fighting for a seat in heaven anymore. All anyone cares about is land."

"And you don't?"

"I have a bit of land and do you know what it's brought me?"

"What?"

"Nothing!" Gisburne cried.

Enide smiled and traced a pattern across the table grain. "What has your vagabond done? Stolen a chicken?" she teased.

Gisburne glared at her. "He's a vagabond. That's enough."

"Grandfather would never chase after a vagabond," Enide murmured.

"No, your grandfather only chases after silly dreams."

"Silly dreams, are they? Like what? Fighting over causes and not borders?"

"He wants to be Lancelot and Roland!"

"He wants to be a knight: something you've obviously forgotten!" Enide said.

Gisburne stood up. "I don't have to listen to this. I'm leaving."

Enide rose as well. "No, please don't do that. Let me go instead. You might think more clearly if you had a few drinks!" She raised her chin and marched away to the accompaniment of applause, shouts and laughter.

She had just reached the door when a new patron entered the alehouse. He started when confronted by the noise. Then his eyes widened when he saw the lady. Surprise evolved into fear when a tall nobleman approached. Gisburne had been heading towards Enide, but his gaze fell on the stranger, nevertheless. The two measured each other: the hunter surveying his quarry, the prey desperately conceiving a means of escape.

In the time it took Gisburne to reach for his sword, the vagabond had grabbed Enide. The knight's hand remained poised above his scabbard, as the vagabond pressed a dagger against Enide's throat.

"You move and I'll kill her!" the vagabond said.

"You won't escape," Gisburne stated, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I have men all over Nottingham."

The vagabond was backing out of the alehouse. "If you have any sense, you'll keep them away from me," he answered, moving into the street. "I might get nervous, see? And it would be terrible if my dagger slipped and – "

Gisburne quickly craned his neck, but both the vagabond and Enide had disappeared. In the silence that ensued, Gisburne could hear several gasps and excited whispers. Then he heard a shrill neigh and the sound of hooves against cobblestones.

He was outside the alehouse in an instant. He managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of Enide and the vagabond before leaping to his horse.

  


* * * * 

  
"Supper will soon be ready," Tuck told Sir George.

"What? Another meal?" the knight exclaimed. "Why, it seems as if only an hour has passed since the last one."

John chuckled softly. "It has!"

"Ah...Fasting is going to be very difficult after all this."

"Surely devout prayer would be enough," Tuck said, who was still determined to alter the knight's method of questing.

Sir George smiled but shook his head.

"Well, all the more reason to partake of our hospitality," Robin replied, directing this statement at their guest, while patting Tuck sympathetically on the shoulder. He then lifted his head, observing the dark clouds looming above them. The trees groaned and twisted in the wind. "It looks like there could be a storm tonight."

"Then I'm glad I decided to stay here by the fire, with good food and even better company," Sir George said, thumping a startled Will Scarlet on the back. "I pity the poor devil who is out on a night like this."

  


* * * * 

  
He squinted in the darkness, but it was no use. The moon had hidden behind the clouds. Gisburne pulled back on the reins, and his horse halted willingly. There was nothing else he could do. He would have to turn back and search again in the morning. Sherwood was no place to be at night, not that Gisburne allowed himself to believe in spirits. However, he did believe in cutthroats and the reputation they had acquired, Robin Hood and those wolfsheads aside.

Gisburne was about to wheel his horse around and head back to Nottingham, when he spotted a flicker of light in the distance. He thought it could be Robin Hood's camp for an instant, but then logic informed him that they would have made their camp much deeper in the forest. Only a fool or a stranger would choose a spot this close to Nottingham, the knight thought. Then he smiled. Could the vagabond be that stupid? Gisburne decided to test his theory.

His horse was determined that it was time to return to Nottingham and the stables, but Gisburne's own stubbornness prevailed in the end. Soon the horse was heading deeper into the forest at a brisk, if reluctant, canter.

The fire pierced through the trees like a beacon. However, it was farther away than Gisburne had first suspected. He would expect to come upon it, but it would continue to elude him. He was beginning to wonder if he had just imagined seeing the fire, when he finally tracked down its location.

He left his horse outside the glade, throwing the reins over a low-hanging branch. He crept carefully towards the camp. Fortunately, the wet earth helped to muffle his movements, and there were no dry twigs to snap beneath his feet.

Gisburne was now close enough to observe a figure, but it was only when he caught sight of the dark coil of hair that he could be sure it was Enide.

As he burst into the clearing, she rose, as if to greet him, then screamed. Gisburne was confused for an instant, but soon understood.

His head almost rattled with the force of the blow. He swayed, overwhelmed by dizziness and pain. The flames of the fire seemed to swell and intensify, before darkness mercifully descended.

  


* * * * 

  
"Can't we keep him?"

"He isn't a dog, Much."

"But, Robin, he-he can fight and...entertain us."

"He doesn't have _that_ many stories about Gisburne," John said. "Besides, he eats almost as much as Tuck!"

"Well, he-he'd hunt deer too, wouldn't he?" Much persisted.

"Why do you want 'im around anyway?" Will asked. "'Aven't we got enough knights to deal with?"

"There's only Gisburne, really."

"Exactly!"

"Look, Much," Tuck said. "Gisburne will probably toss him out on his ear as soon as he sees him. When he does, Sir George can come and stay with us again." Tuck winked at Will and John.

Much turned to his leader, eyes shining brightly. "Really, Robin?"

"Oh...uh...Sir George! There you are." The knight had just entered the camp with Nasir, who had been speaking to their guest in Arabic.

"_Sayyid al-sayf, abd Allah_," [2] Sir George said.

The Saracen smiled and bowed, then took his turn to go on watch.

"You speak his language?" Robin asked in surprise.

"Oh, only a little. We had the most interesting conversation, though. Your Nasir is a most remarkable man."

"We think so," John stated.

"You're lucky to have him." Sir George clapped the taller man on the shoulder then crossed the camp to his horse.

Robin followed and reached the knight as he was untying the reins from a branch. "You're leaving?"

"I think it's time."

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you. I hope so too." Sir George pulled the reins free and stood for a moment, not sure what his next step should be.

"We'll escort you to the road," Robin suggested. His friends all rose quickly, except for Will, who needed a little more encouragement. However, once he had rubbed his sore shin, he was following the small party to the road.

"I'll miss you," Much admitted to Sir George, gazing down at the ground shyly as they walked.

"Oh, you'll forget me soon enough. I have a feeling that you and your friends will be receiving a good many guests after I've gone."

"You could be right, my lord," Tuck said, pausing for an instant. "I think Nasir might have just spotted some."

The Saracen's signal could be heard in the faint threads of a bird call. The outlaws immediately broke into a run, and Sir George found it difficult to catch up with his hosts. When he finally managed to reach them, Nasir had joined the other outlaws. Without a word, the Saracen pointed to a cart that rumbled slowly towards them.

"It ain't much," Will stated.

"They must be from one of the villages," John said. "We can't steal from them, Naz."

Nasir smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "You have not seen what is in the cart."

Will and John stared at Nasir, exchanged puzzled glances, then tore on to the road.

"Is it gold, Nasir?" Much asked in excitement. "Jewels?"

Nasir shook his head.

"Well, what is it, then?" Tuck demanded. They had reached the cart and were surprised to find Will and John talking to Matthew of Wickham and one of his friends. Both outlaws spun around eagerly as the rest of them gathered around the cart.

"Look what Matthew's brought us!" Scarlet cried.

Nasir grinned and looked directly at Sir George. "Your squire."

  


* * * * 

  
"It's Gisburne!"

"Is he dead?"

"No, we're not that lucky."

"What happened?"

"Where did you find him, Matthew?"

Sir George released his horse's bridle and peeked inside the cart. Sure enough, Guy of Gisburne was sprawled across the bottom. The hair and features were unmistakable.

"We were gathering wood," Matthew explained.

"He came out of the clearing," Matthew's friend piped up. "We thought he'd kill us for sure."

"But then he just fell," Matthew continued. "You should see the lump on his head! He must have been bleeding too because he was holding this." The boy passed a handkerchief to Robin. It had once been a pristine white, but now it was marred by spots of dried blood and smudges of dirt.

"So you two lifted him into the cart?" Robin said.

"Us and Peter."

"Peter?"

"He went to look for Sir Guy's horse."

Robin almost winced. If that horse was found in Wickham without a rider...

"I told him to bring it here," Matthew said, as if he could read the outlaw's thoughts.

Robin smiled and tried not to look too relieved. However, he still wasn't entirely satisfied. "You should have left him there. If he had woken up before you reached us..."

"But he didn't!"

"But if he had – " Will said. "Well, you should 'ave told us first, that's all."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know you are." Will patted Matthew on the back and the boy grinned.

"Are you going to tie him up, Uncle Will?"

Scarlet opened his mouth.

"No," Robin answered firmly. "They're going to take Gisburne back to the camp, and you two boys are going to make yourself scarce. I'll see if I can find your friend."

"All right, Robin."

"Yeah, that's fine with me." Will was studying the knight in the same way a wolf might size up a lamb. As if on cue, the knight groaned and tried to move his head.

"On the other hand, I think Will could use the exercise."

"Ah, Robin!"

"He can ride my horse," Sir George offered. "It looks like I'll be staying here a bit longer."

Scarlet scowled and took the reins from the knight. Meanwhile, John and Tuck each grabbed an arm and pulled Gisburne into a sitting position. John was about to lift his enemy across his shoulders when he realized that Tuck was laughing.

"What is it?"

"Lancelot in the cart!"

"What?" John's head spun around again when Robin and Sir George started to laugh as well.

"It's a story, John," Robin explained. "Guinevere is captured and Lancelot must ride in a cart to find her."

"You see, he meets a dwarf who will only tell him where Guinevere is if he'll ride in the cart," Tuck added.

"But he doesn't want to do this because he'll look shameful," Sir George said. "It's only his love for Guinevere that gives him the courage to ride in the cart."

John glanced back at Gisburne and shook his head. "Poor bugger. He didn't ride in that cart to find Guinevere."

"Didn't he?" Robin held up the handkerchief and smiled.

  


* * * * 

  
He had been aware of the voices for some time, but the constant drumming in his skull seemed to prevent him from opening his eyes. When he finally managed to complete this difficult task, he could only see a large blurry shape. He blinked a few times and tried to focus again. Suddenly, the shape had sharp edges and, apparently, a face.

Gisburne sat up, then clutched his head as the drumbeats were replaced by the blows of a hammer against an anvil. He felt a hand close in on his shoulder and gazed slowly into dark eyes again.

"Sir George?"

"It's good to see you again, Guy."

"What happened?"

"I was hoping you'd know that. It would seem that my old squire has had quite an adventure," the other knight commented.

Gisburne stared at him for a moment before remembering. "Damn him," he growled. Sir George raised an eyebrow. "I was trying to track down a vagabond when...Sir George he has – !"

"What, my dear boy? What's the matter?"

Gisburne had just realized where he was, the sight of more than one familiar face jolting his senses. That wolfshead was grinning at him.

"Good morning, Guy. Did you sleep well?"

Gisburne, one hand still pressed firmly against his head, rose unsteadily. Sir George stood also, grasping Gisburne's arm.

"It's all right, Guy, we're with friends."

Gisburne's head snapped around, and Sir George's hand released the other knight's arm.

"So it is true," Gisburne hissed. "You are mad."

There was a flash of fury behind Sir George's eyes. "What did you say?"

"These men are dangerous outlaws."

"They have treated me kindly."

"They're my enemies."

"Then why haven't they killed you?"

"Perhaps they think they can use me to bargain with the Sheriff, or they'd prefer to humiliate me first."

"You don't need us for that, Gisburne!" John cried with a laugh.

Gisburne glared at him but said nothing.

Sir George rested a hand on his arm again. "Have you forgotten the virtues already? What of _pité_, _largesse_, _franchise_ and _courtoisie_?" [3]

"What of honour? You once told me that was the most important virtue of all."

"Ah...yes...well..."

"You hypocrite," Gisburne spat. Then he fell back a step as Sir George dealt him a stinging blow.

"Oh, oh," Tuck said.

Robin leapt to his feet even before he heard the slither of steel. He stepped between the knights as the swords left their scabbards.

"Stand aside," Sir George ordered.

"You don't want to do this."

"Don't pretend to know what either of us is thinking," Gisburne snapped.

Robin ignored him. He knew there was no point in trying to appeal to his enemy. He turned his attention back to Sir George again. "He was your squire. You don't want to fight him."

"He should have thought of that before he spoke," Sir George replied.

"Gisburne's words were cruel but hasty. He spoke in anger."

"He usually does."

"At least I don't prattle on endlessly," Gisburne retorted.

"Don't you?" John teased.

This time, Gisburne didn't even spare John a glance.

"He was hurt," Robin said. "He thought you had turned against him."

"That's ridiculous!" both knights cried.

"Of course I didn't turn against him!"

"Hurt, indeed," Gisburne grumbled.

Sir George stepped around Robin, and Gisburne waited for another blow. Sir George placed his sword back in its scabbard. "Did you really believe I had turned against you, Guy? How could you think such a thing?"

Gisburne looked at the outlaws, then Sir George, and rubbed his cheek thoughtfully.

"Why, you stupid headstrong fool!" Sir George cried.

Gisburne tried to step back, but it was too late. Sir George threw his arms around him. Gisburne cringed and blushed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. The outlaws made no effort to conceal their mirth.

"Ah, I think I'm going to cry," John said, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. Tuck and Much laughed, and Gisburne finally managed to free himself from Sir George's grasp.

"Gisburne, don't you have something to say?" Robin asked, watching the knight as he tried to regain his composure.

Gisburne glared at him as if the outlaw was demanding an apology.

"Isn't there something you need to tell Sir George?" Robin persisted, raising the handkerchief he had found.

Gisburne's eyes widened and he instinctively touched the back of his head. "Enide came to see me in Nottingham."

"What? But...that's impossible!" Sir George protested.

"Who's Enide?" Robin said.

"My granddaughter...Guy, are you sure?" Sir George asked. Gisburne rolled his eyes. "But the last time you saw her she was just – "

"I know!"

"Well, where is she now?"

Gisburne looked away for a moment, finding it impossible to meet the other knight's eyes. "She was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped!" Sir George shouted. "Kidnapped?" He grabbed Gisburne by his tunic. "How could you let this happen?"

Gisburne pushed the other man away. "Let?" he barked. "If that stupid girl had stayed at the castle instead of following me to the alehouse – "

"My granddaughter was in an alehouse!" Sir George roared.

"I told her to go back to the castle!"

"After you plied her with several cups of ale, no doubt!"

"She followed me to the alehouse! I didn't want her there!"

"Then what were you doing in an alehouse in the first place?"

"I was trying to arrest the vagabond!"

"What vagabond?"

"The vagabond who kidnapped Enide!" Gisburne screamed, kicking a tree in fury. Then, after growling a few curses, he began to hobble away.

"Where are you going, Gisburne?" Robin demanded. The knight stopped and turned around.

"Bind me or kill me," Gisburne rasped. "There's no other way to make me stay."

"What about your story?" Robin asked.

"What story?" Will walked into the camp, leading two horses. "Where's 'e going?"

"He says he's going to leave unless we bind him or kill him," Much explained.

"Oh, 'e did, did 'e?" Will started to head towards Gisburne, but John and Nasir pulled him back.

"You followed them to Sherwood, didn't you?" Robin said. Gisburne didn't answer. "You caught up with them, but he knocked you out. Enide must have tried to stop the bleeding with her handkerchief before the vagabond dragged her off again."

"How do you know that?" Much said, who looked almost as surprised as Gisburne.

"'Is 'ead and that 'andkerchief," Will answered.

Sir George glanced from Will to Robin to Gisburne. "Is this true? Guy?"

Gisburne sighed. "What does it matter? There's nothing we can do about it now."

"There's nothing we can do about it!" Sir George exclaimed. "What do you mean there's nothing we can do about it?"

"We've been captured by wolfsheads. What are we supposed to do?"

"You know, he does have a point," John said.

"You're agreeing with Gisburne?" Will cried, almost spitting a mouthful of bread into the fire. "No, that ain't right."

"No, it isn't right," Tuck argued. "Gisburne has a duty to that girl. He can't just abandon her."

"Duty?" John asked. "What do you mean, Tuck?"

"The handkerchief is a token. By giving it to him, she has bestowed her favour."

Gisburne snorted and shook his head. "This isn't a tournament."

"But you're still her champion," Sir George said sternly.

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are, Gisburne," Robin answered, "so you'd better be on your way."

"But – "

"Now!" Sir George commanded.

Gisburne stared at Robin and Sir George as if they had both lost their senses. Both men seemed adamant. Gisburne allowed Sir George to pull him to his horse. The outlaws watched in stunned silence as the knights untied their horses.

"Robin, they're walking out of the camp," Will said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, I know that, Will."

"You're letting Gisburne escape?"

"I think it's best."

"Best?" Will yelled. He scratched his head then laughed quietly, as if he too was questioning his leader's sanity or, perhaps, his own.

Robin sat down beside Will, who might have moved away if Robin hadn't draped an arm around his shoulders. "It will be easier to find the girl without them, Will."

"You mean we're looking for her too?" Will asked in surprise.

"Of course."

"Why? What's in it for us?"

Robin considered the question for a moment then smiled. "How about the look on Gisburne's face when we find Enide _and_ the vagabond first?"

  


* * * * 

  
She stared pensively at the grey sky. It could rain again. She hoped that her grandfather had sought shelter somewhere. He was an old man. His body would not take kindly to the dampness and cold. She could barely stand to think of him out there all alone. What if he was ill or injured?

A tear rolled down her cheek. There was no one to help him. No one to make sure that he was dressed warmly or eating a proper meal. He could be dying in a ditch somewhere with only his horse to watch over him...

"What's the matter?" the man behind her demanded when Enide began to weep.

"My grandfather could be dead now and it's all your fault!" Enide wailed.

The vagabond tugged sharply on the reins and the horse stopped. "Listen, I've never even met your grandfather, lady! You can't accuse me of that!"

"Yes, I can! I might have found him by now if you hadn't kidnapped me. And...and perhaps Guy would have...would have helped me look for him if he hadn't been so busy chasing after you."

"I doubt it," the vagabond mumbled.

"Now...now Guy's lying in Sherwood somewhere with an arrow in his chest!"

"Hold on!" the vagabond protested. "I only hit him on the head! I...I don't even own a longbow!"

"But Robin Hood does! He'll have found Guy and planted an arrow in his chest!"

"You don't know that! Guy might have ducked or...or hid behind a tree!"

"Not if he'd just woken up! He would have been confused, disorientated..."

"He's probably back in Nottingham Castle in front of a nice warm fire," the vagabond argued. "I wish I was," he murmured under his breath.

Enide shook her head vehemently. "He's dead. I know he's dead. He's dead and so is my grandfather. You're not just a thief now...You're a murderer!"

The vagabond drew back in shock, and Enide twisted free of his grasp, slipping off the horse.

"Come back here!" the vagabond shouted.

Enide glanced at her captor briefly then dived into some bushes. The vagabond cursed and urged the reluctant horse off the road.

  


* * * * 

  
The outlaws separated into two groups. By splitting up, they hoped to find the vagabond and Enide more quickly. Robin sent John, Will and Much to visit the villages in case any of the people had spotted the pair or heard news of two individuals fitting their description. Robin, Tuck and Nasir had focused their efforts on picking up any trail they might have left as they travelled through the forest.

They went to the spot where Matthew said he had found Gisburne and discovered the vagabond's old camp. Now it just remained for Nasir to track the impressions left in the mud by Enide's horse. The Saracen felt confident that they would be able to locate the vagabond and his captive easily. Indeed, it seemed that they had a better chance of success than their friends did. They had certainly fared better than the two knights.

Sir George and Sir Guy were arguing about the younger knight's sense of direction. Gisburne insisted that he had an excellent sense of direction, while Sir George believed that his old squire had no sense of direction at all.

"We've been going around in a circle for the past hour!" Sir George said.

"No, we haven't," Gisburne answered. "You just think we are. One tree looks very much like another."

"Oh? And what about that tree with the big X carved in it?"

Gisburne reluctantly looked in the direction Sir George was pointing in, then closed his eyes in exasperation. "All right," he conceded. "We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere."

"Just the one?" Sir George asked. "Bah! I thought you said you knew the forest well."

"I do!" Gisburne lied earnestly. "I should. I've been hunting those wolfsheads for years."

"And do you ever wonder why you've never managed to catch them?"

Gisburne flushed, but said nothing. Then he stopped his horse, swung down from the saddle and disappeared through some trees.

Sir George sighed, wishing he had been wise enough to clamp down on his tongue. He dismounted his horse and then tethered both animals to a tree. Guy had probably gone off to have a good long sulk, so Sir George decided that he might as well take advantage of the situation and rest. He found a fairly comfortable spot on the forest floor and stretched out. Some faint rays of sunlight had begun to poke through the clouds. Sir George shut his eyes and wondered why the ground felt softer during the day than at night.

He woke up when Gisburne crashed through some bushes a short time later. Sir George blinked at him curiously, especially when he noticed the dead rabbit in Gisburne's hands.

"You caught that?" Sir George asked in astonishment.

"No, of course not! What do you take me for? A poacher?"

"Well, then, where did you...? How did you...?"

"I caught the poacher myself, didn't I?" Gisburne said. "I told him to give me the rabbit or I would arrest him and take him back to Nottingham."

"But that's stealing!"

"No, it's justice. He shouldn't have been poaching in the first place. And, besides, I was hungry. I haven't eaten since yesterday."

"My granddaughter is missing and all you can think of is your stomach?" Sir George exclaimed.

"Oh, and what about you? I suppose it's all right for you to take a nap!"

Sir George blushed and tried to look away. "I'm...I'm an old man," he muttered.

"And I'm a hungry one." Gisburne laid the rabbit down on the ground and disappeared through the trees again.

_God's Legs, surely the rabbit is enough_, Sir George thought. He sighed and pulled out his dagger. If Guy insisted on eating a meal, the least he could do was help. He picked up the rabbit and began the unpleasant task of skinning it. He was almost half-finished when Gisburne returned to their makeshift camp, his arms full of sticks and branches. He dumped them with a grunt, then knelt beside the pile.

"You'll never start a fire with those," Sir George said. "They're too damp."

"It was the driest wood I could find!"

"They'll never light."

"Oh, yes they will," Gisburne grumbled. He dug into the pile and pulled out two sticks. He glared at Sir George as if expecting him to provide further advice, but the older knight had returned to his task. Gisburne waited a moment, then started to rub the two sticks together.

It took time but Gisburne eventually managed to produce a tiny whiff of smoke. The branch caught on fire and a weak but steady flame arose. The younger knight made no attempt to conceal his smirk as Sir George stuck the rabbit on a spit and placed it over the fire.

"You realize, of course, that your vagabond is probably miles away by now," Sir George said.

"He can't ride forever. He'll have to stop to rest the horses, and Enide's bound to be tired."

"Or dead," Sir George argued, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. "She could be dead, you know."

"No, he'd be mad to kill her. He's in enough trouble as it is."

"Then perhaps he no longer feels he has anything to lose."

Gisburne shrugged. It was certainly a possibility.

"She would slow him down, hinder his escape," Sir George continued.

"Yes, she would," Gisburne admitted.

"Then there's no reason why he wouldn't kill her!"

"Well..."

Sir George leapt to his feet with surprising agility. "Stay and stuff your belly full of rabbit if you wish," he said, "but I have to find my granddaughter." He untied his horse's reins and led it out of the clearing. Gisburne watched him go but remained stubbornly by the fire. He was starving and the rabbit was beginning to smell so good...

"Damn him," Gisburne cursed. He snatched the spit off the fire and walked towards his horse.

  


* * * * 

  
The novice entered the infirmary, her eyes taking in a long row of beds as they searched for the sister she had been sent to fetch. At last they fell upon the young nun with the pale freckled face. She was tending to a boy who was sick with fever. The concern was etched in her face. The novice approached her timidly, unwilling to disturb the woman but afraid to disobey her prioress.

"Sister Marion..."

The nun looked up in surprise. Then a smile slowly appeared on her lips as she took in the wide blue eyes of the reluctant messenger.

"Yes, what is it, Agnes?"

"The Reverend Mother wishes to see you, sister," Agnes said. Then she looked around quickly and lowered her voice. "There's a lady here. Says she was kidnapped by a vagabond and that Robin Hood killed her grandfather and some knight. Oh, what was his name...? Sir Guy! Yes, that's it."

Marion's eyebrows almost disappeared beneath her wimple, but she managed to keep the rest of her face composed.

"She seemed very upset. The Reverend Mother has tried to calm her, but...Well, she thought you might be able to help her because you...uh..."

Marion rose to her feet. "Where is the lady now?"

"We took her to a chamber to rest, though she says she can't rest until she knows what happened to her grandfather."

"And Sir Guy?" Marion asked wryly.

"Yes, that's right."

Marion sighed. "I'd better go speak to her," she said. She allowed the novice to lead her from the infirmary, pausing only briefly to ask another nun to keep an attentive eye on her patient.

They soon reached the chamber in question. Marion knocked then entered, the timid but curious novice accompanying her. The room's occupants were seated on the edge of the bed. The Prioress eyed Marion in relief. The lady with the red eyes glared at her as if resenting the intrusion.

"Marion, how good it was of you to come so quickly. This is Lady Enide de Girault," the Prioress stated, with a wave of her hand at the surly young woman.

Marion stepped forward and saw, on closer inspection, that the lady's braids had started to come loose and her hair was matted in spots with a twig or a bur. There were also some scratches on her hands and one that ran along her right cheek. So the lady really had been travelling through Sherwood.

"How did you end up in such a state?" Marion asked bluntly.

Enide glanced at her sharply. "I was trying to escape from a vagabond who had kidnapped me from an alehouse. When I happened upon this priory, I thought I had found a sanctuary...peace." She looked at the prioress coldly. "It seems I was mistaken."

The Prioress laid a hand on Enide's shoulder. "My child, you're exhausted and not thinking clearly. If, in a few days – "

"A few days?" Enide cried. "I can't wait a few days! I want to take my vows now."

"You wish to become a nun?" Marion said in surprise.

"The world is such a cold harsh place," Enide replied bitterly. "I can abide it no longer."

"So you came here to run away from it."

"Why not? Isn't that why you're here?"

Marion opened her mouth, but couldn't think of a suitable response.

"No, my child, that isn't why she is here," the Prioress said patiently. "It isn't why any of us are here. We're here to serve God, the Father of this 'cold harsh world'."

Enide bowed her head and blushed. "Forgive me, Mother. I...I..." Enide placed her head in her hands and began to weep. The Prioress wrapped an arm around the shaking shoulders and gazed at Marion beseechingly.

When the tears had subsided, the Prioress lifted her arm from the lady's shoulders and Marion sat in her place.

"I'd like to hear the rest of your story," Marion said gently. Enide stared at her for a moment, then managed a meager smile. Soon she was telling Marion about everything that had happened since she had arrived in Nottingham.

"Now do you understand why I wish to take my vows? What else can I do now that my grandfather and Guy are dead?"

"But they aren't dead!" Marion exclaimed.

Enide shook her head sadly. "If only I could believe that was true."

"Did you see them die?"

"No, but I saw Guy go down when the vagabond hit him on the head."

"So they could still be alive."

"What if Guy never woke up? What if that villain smashed his skull?"

"You said you tried to staunch the blood with your handkerchief. Did his skull look as if it had been smashed?"

"No," Enide admitted.

Marion smiled. "Then he's probably still alive."

"But...but what if Robin Hood found him? They're enemies, you know."

"Yes, I know that," Marion said, carefully avoiding Enide's eyes.

"So why would Robin Hood spare his life?"

"Because he is a just and honourable man," the Prioress replied, studying Marion.

"Then you think Guy is his prisoner?"

"Yes, he could be," Marion said.

Enide sat in thought for a moment, absorbing this piece of information. "What about Grandfather?" she demanded suddenly. "He's an old man. What if he's ill or-or lost in the forest?"

Both Marion and the prioress sighed. Then Marion rose from the bed and beckoned the Prioress into a corner of the chamber. "If her grandfather is still in Sherwood, I believe I could find him, Reverend Mother," Marion whispered.

"Do you think that's wise, my child? Think of the dangers."

_Dangers?_ Marion wondered if the prioress was referring to murderous cutthroats or the influence of old friends. "I know Sherwood better than almost anyone," Marion said. "I'll be safe."

The Prioress still didn't look convinced.

"I'll be careful," Marion persisted.

"You'll return before nightfall whether you find the girl's grandfather or not."

It wasn't a lot of time, but Marion knew she had been lucky to gain the Prioress' permission at all.

"Yes, Reverend Mother," she said.

The Prioress smiled kindly and embraced Marion quickly before the nun headed towards the door. The nun had barely shut it behind her when she heard Enide exclaim, "She's _that_ Marion?"

  


* * * * 

  
Nasir had been following the road faithfully when suddenly he crouched down, studied the muddy ground intently, and faded into the trees. Robin and Tuck exchanged amused glances and followed the Saracen. He had stopped again to examine the ground.

"The girl broke away," Nasir explained. "You can see where she ran," he added, indicating a series of footprints.

"He's chasing her," Robin said. He knelt down beside his friend and gestured to the tracks made by the horse.

"Yes, he came this way," Nasir answered with a smile. "I could see that without looking at the ground. He broke many branches when he rode through on the horse." Both men rose.

"How far could she have gotten on foot before he caught her again?" Tuck asked.

"There are parts of Sherwood that a horse can't reach," Robin said, "but even if he has captured her again, we'll still find her."

  


* * * * 

  
"Well, I don't see her anywhere," Scarlet grumbled, grabbing the water-bag from Much.

"Perhaps Robin found her," Much said, snatching the water-bag back once Will had had his fill.

The outlaws had stopped to rest on Will's insistence. They were now sprawled in a glade with a small patch of sunlight to spare.

"They could have left Sherwood," John said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "If they travelled all night, they could have been miles away before we even came across Gisburne."

"Gisburne," Will growled. "This is all 'is doing. We wouldn't even be 'ere if it wasn't for 'im!"

"And Sir George," Much piped up cheerfully.

"I hate knights," Will said.

"What about Sir Richard? You can't hate him. He's Marion's father."

Will glared at Much, then smiled faintly. "All right," he admitted. "I don't 'ate Leaford, but I don't trust 'im either. 'E turned 'is back on us after Loxley died. Only came to us again when Marion was in danger."

"Aye," John said, "but he's still a good man, Will."

Scarlet grumbled something unintelligible in reply.

"If only Sir George knew Sir Richard," Much mused almost dreamily. "He could ask him to go on the quest instead of Gisburne..."

Will whacked Much on the head with the water-bag. "I'm sick of 'earing about this bloody quest! Real soldiers don't 'ave time for that kind of nonsense. And I don't 'ave time to lay around 'ere all day. I'm going back to the camp."

"But what about Sir George's granddaughter?" Much demanded.

"It's 'opeless. We've looked everywhere. She could be dead for all we know."

"She's in trouble and she needs our help, Will. We can't just leave her! What would Robin say?"

"She's one of 'is kind. Let 'im look for 'er."

Much stared at Will in disbelief. "I...I...You're just saying that because you don't like Sir George!"

"You're right. I don't."

"Well, I like him!"

"Then maybe you should go on 'is bloody quest with 'im!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Then you'd better – "

John clamped a hand over Scarlet's mouth. "Quiet! Both of you!" he hissed. "I can hear something."

Will and Much forgot their quarrel. Will pulled John's hand from his mouth and crept out of the glade.

For some time, John and Much could only hear the twitter of birds and the creaking of branches in the wind. Then there was a loud startled cry.

The outlaws stood up quickly and would have ran to their friend's aid if Will hadn't appeared first with a captive in tow. The captive didn't struggle much, but then he had Will's dagger at his throat.

"Who's this?" John asked.

"Well, who do you think?" Will said.

Much walked up to the stranger and gazed into his face. "The vagabond?" he asked.

"Yeah!"

"How do you know?"

"'E was riding a horse," Will said. He waited for a response, but John and Much were still looking at him expectantly. "'Ow many men do you know who carry ribbons in their saddlebags?"

"Ah," John said.

Much continued to stare at the vagabond. "But where's Sir George's granddaughter?"

"That's just what I was about to ask 'im, Much," Will said. "Where is she?" he barked, pushing the vagabond against a tree.

"Who?" the vagabond cried, more surprised than frightened.

"I want to know what you've done with...What's 'er name again, John?"

"Uh...Edith, I think."

"Yeah? I want – I demand to know what you've done with Lady Edith...de Jerot."

"Who?"

"The lady you took from Nottingham!"

"Oh, her! She...uh...She got away."

"Got away?" Will exclaimed. "Do you really expect us to believe that?"

"It's true! I swear it! She got away! She broke free and slid off the horse. I tried to find her again, but she disappeared."

"Tried to find 'er, did you? Why? So you could cut 'er pretty throat?" Will demanded, pushing him again.

"No! I don't want to kill her! I only took her to get away from Gisburne!"

The tight grip loosened a little, though Will refused to relinquish his hold altogether. "Is Gisburne really chasing you?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Why does he chase anyone?"

"You stole something?"

The vagabond nodded, not meeting Will's gaze.

"You stole a lot of things?" Will said.

"Aye," the vagabond admitted softly.

"Did you...?" Will paused meaningfully. "Did you steal anything from Gisburne...besides his bride?"

"What?" The vagabond's head jerked up sharply, the look of fear clearly evident in his eyes.

Will grinned and clapped the vagabond on the shoulder, while John and Much finally released the laughter they had been trying to stifle.

"That's not funny!" the vagabond shouted.

"Ah, now look what you've done," John said. "You've frightened the little fellow."

Will crossed his arms. "'E should be frightened. She might not be Gisburne's bride, but 'e's still trying to find 'er."

"And so's Sir George," Much added.

"Sir George?" the vagabond asked nervously.

"'Er grandfather," Will explained.

"Then he's still alive?" The vagabond drew a huge sigh of relief. "Praise be to God!" When he received strange glances from the outlaws, the vagabond told them about Enide's wild accusations and her belief that her captor was a murderer.

John started to chuckle quietly. "She didn't escape from you, lad: you escaped from her!"

"You're lucky you got rid of 'er," Will said. "If it 'ad been me, I think I would have begged Gisburne to take 'er back!"

"Well, I can't say I miss her much," the vagabond confessed with a smile.

"What will you do now you're free of her?" John asked.

The vagabond stared at him, taken aback. "I...I don't know. I thought that would be your decision, not mine."

"Then I say we go back to the camp," Will suggested.

"But what about Sir George and his granddaughter?" Much said.

"I don't give a damn about Sir George or 'is granddaughter!"

"But Robin said – "

"Robin said we should find Lady Edith _and_ the vagabond. Well, I found the vagabond, didn't I? And I asked 'im where Lady Edith was, but 'e didn't know. So I've done everything I can do, 'aven't I?" Much nodded glumly. "Well, what's the trouble, then?" Will gave Much an encouraging shove, and the four men began walking to the camp.

  


* * * * 

  
Gisburne sat against the tree trunk in sleepy contentment, watching the flames dance. His belly was finally full and his headache seemed to be subsiding. Sir George, on the other hand, was pacing around their makeshift camp restlessly.

He had finally agreed to stop, so they could break their fast, when he could no longer bear to hear the sound of Gisburne's stomach growling. Now he was eager to set off again.

"Look, you've filled your belly," Sir George said. "Let's be on our way."

Gisburne gazed at the other knight lazily and burped. Then, as Sir George's eyes turned heavenward, Gisburne rose to his feet and headed towards his horse. He was about to place one foot in the stirrups when he realized that Sir George was still standing in the same spot. Gisburne turned his head towards the older knight and saw that Sir George was staring at him.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Where is it?"

"What?"

"The favour Enide gave you. I haven't seen you with it once during our journey. Do you not cast your eyes upon it from time to time? Perhaps you wear it near your heart?"

Gisburne started to pat his clothing ineffectually. "I know I put it somewhere," he muttered.

"Somewhere?" Sir George shouted.

"Well, yes." Gisburne took a step back as Sir George suddenly lunged towards him.

"Do you think so little of my granddaughter's favour, you brute?"

"It's only a bloody handkerchief. Look, I'll buy her another one if it makes you happy."

"Buy her another handkerchief? You cannot buy a lady's favour! She must bestow it!"

"All right. I'll give her the money and she can buy the handkerchief."

"You idiot!" Sir George roared. "The handkerchief itself means nothing!"

"Then why do you keep raving about it?"

Sir George groaned and placed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. "It's not the handkerchief but what it represents. She used it to tend to your head when it was bleeding. Then she left it with you as a sign of her favour, to show that she has faith that you will rescue her."

"I don't need her handkerchief for that. She has been kidnapped by a dangerous criminal. It's my duty to arrest the vagabond and deliver Enide to safety. As a Norman noblewoman, it's her right under the law."

Sir George stood in thought for a few moments, while Gisburne shuffled his feet impatiently. Finally Sir George spoke. "I should never have come here."

"Well, if you'd stop babbling about Enide's handkerchief, we could be on our way," Gisburne said, his eyes falling on the horses again.

"No, I didn't mean this camp. I meant Sherwood. Nottingham. My granddaughter would be safe but for me."

"It's not your fault, Sir George. Blame the vagabond. He took her."

"Yes, but I led her here, didn't I? And all on account of some foolish old man's dream. His quest."

"Quest? What quest? What are you talking about?"

Sir George sighed then proceeded to tell Gisburne about his quest to find the reliquary of Saint Cuthbert and return it to Durham Cathedral.

"Oh," Gisburne said, after taking some time to absorb the information. "This reliquary is worth a lot of money, then?"

"My dear boy, it's priceless."

A smile slowly spread across Gisburne's face. "And you want me to accompany you on this quest?"

Sir George's eyes lit up, and he clasped the younger knight by the shoulders. "Yes!"

"_If_ I did come, and we did manage to find it, who would we sell it to? The Bishop?"

The hands fell from Gisburne's shoulders, and Sir George stared at him, aghast. "But I wasn't going to sell it to the Bishop. I was going to give it to him."

"What?" Gisburne exclaimed. "But that's mad!"

"What did you say?" Sir George growled, his face suddenly clouding.

Gisburne noticed the rapid change in Sir George's mood and attempted to restore the older man's temper. "Why should you do all that work and not be rewarded? Surely the Church has more than enough money to spare, Sir George."

"But I tell you, I'm not going on this quest for money or glory, unless it be God's glory. I seek spiritual enlightenment."

"Spiritual enlightenment? You can't mean it."

"But I do. I do mean it."

Gisburne crossed his arms, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "You've entered the realm of stories and ballads. It's not real," he stated firmly.

"But we can make it real, you and I," Sir George said earnestly. "I know we can." He looked at this old squire for affirmation, but saw nothing but skepticism behind the blue eyes. "Guy, if you – my last squire, my favourite squire – will not accompany me on this quest, I think it would be best if we part company now and go our separate ways."

Gisburne stared at Sir George in astonishment. He had expected anger, perhaps even pleading, but not this. Suddenly Gisburne experienced an emotion he rarely felt – one he hadn't felt, in fact, since he had encountered his mother at Croxden Abbey – guilt. However, he couldn't allow himself to indulge in such idle fantasies. He had a position, a job to do. He had no time for quests, especially quests that offered no rewards.

"Well, Guy?" Sir George prompted. His eyes were so full of hope and faith, faith in his squire no less!

Gisburne turned and quickly mounted his horse. "Godspeed, Sir George," he said. Then, flicking the reins, he rode away.

  


* * * * 

  
As Marion rode deeper into Sherwood, her feelings seemed to grow deeper too as joy mingled with pain. She was happy to be in Sherwood again. She had escaped from the strict regimen of the priory and, for the first time in months, she was truly free. She also hoped and feared that she might see her friends again and Robin. Robin.

He brought the pain. He made her remember spring mornings, birdsong, laughter. He made her remember love.

Marion shook her head, scolding herself for allowing her mind to dwell in the past. Her old life was over. She had begun a new one at Halstead. It wasn't perfect, but it brought her peace and even a sense of fulfillment at times. Happiness? Well, that would come later.

Marion stroked her horse's mane absently, so lost in thought that she almost didn't notice how the mare's ears had pricked up, as if they could detect some sound she couldn't hear.

She immediately slipped the bow she was carrying from her back and reached into her quiver for an arrow. It was only a matter of seconds before she had notched the arrow and was pulling back on the string. Her heart was thumping in her chest, partly in fear but mostly in excitement.

"Marion!" a voice called. She almost dropped the bow altogether.

"Robin?" Marion heard a faint rustle of leaves, and then Robin, Tuck and Nasir were walking towards her. Now she dropped the bow and leapt quickly from her horse. However, she only managed to take a few steps before she faltered. Robin hesitated as well, and an awkward period of silence ensued.

"We've missed you, Little Flower," Tuck said, holding open his arms. Marion went to them and embraced him warmly. Then she hugged the smiling Saracen, greeting him in Arabic. That still left Robin. She studied his face. Was he happy to see her again or was he still angry…?

Robin pulled Marion to him, and she wrapped her arms around him. "It's good to see you again, Marion."

"It's good to see you too." She placed a hand against Robin's cheek. "You look well. I'm glad."

Robin smiled and took both her hands. "What brings you to Sherwood?" he asked.

"You won't believe this, but I'm looking for a knight."

Robin grinned. "Oh, no? Well, we're looking for a lady."

"Lady Enide de Giraut," Tuck said.

Marion's eyes widened and she laughed. "But she's at Halstead!" she explained to the three men who stared at her in confusion.

"What?" Robin cried.

She arrived there today. She told us that she was kidnapped by a vagabond and had only just escaped. Oh, and she believes that her grandfather could be dying, and that you shot Gisburne."

"What? Her grandfather's fine and Gisburne…Well, he was hit on the head, but I didn't do it!"

"So you've got them back at the camp," Marion said, sounding relieved.

"Uh…not quite, Little Flower," Tuck admitted. "They're searching for Enide."

"And the vagabond," Nasir added quietly.

"You mean you let her grandfather loose in Sherwood…with Gisburne?" Marion cried.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. It would leave us free to find Enide and the vagabond."

"Well, you've found Enide. Now you just have to find Sir George." Marion sighed. "Why didn't you just tie them up?"

"Tie up Sir George?" Tuck asked, sounding almost outraged. "No, we couldn't have done that!"

Marion stared at Tuck, then looked back at Robin, then glanced at Nasir, hoping that the Saracen might make more sense.

"He is Sir George," Nasir stated, as if that was all the explanation she would ever need.

Marion threw up her hands in surrender. "I must return to Halstead. I promised to be back before nightfall."

"I'll come with you," Robin said. "I'd like to meet Enide," he added quickly when both Tuck and Nasir looked at him strangely.

"If you did come, perhaps you could convince Enide that you didn't shoot Gisburne and tell her that Sir George is well."

Robin stared at Marion in surprise. He didn't think that she would agree. Then she added the condition.

"I'd like Tuck to come too," Marion said. "I…I want him to see my herb garden."

"Of course," Robin replied before the monk could protest.

"I will find Sir George and bring him to Halstead," Nasir said to the friends who had almost forgotten him.

Marion, who blushed when she was reminded of Nasir's presence, squeezed the Saracen's hand. "Thank you."

  


* * * * 

  
Once Nasir had left his friends, he began searching for some sign of the knights's trail. As both men were unaccustomed to the forest and were riding on horseback, Nasir believed that they would probably stick to the roads and, when they stopped to rest, would not disappear completely within the trees.

It took time but he finally found two sets of hoof prints in the mud. He had been following them for almost two hours when he came upon a clearing and what remained of someone's supper. Faded wisps of smoke were still rising from a pile of burnt sticks that had been used to build a fire. There were also some animal bones scattered on the ground. The Saracen picked one up to study it. Rabbit, he decided. The two knights had passed through the clearing at some point. Nasir crouched down to examine the tracks.

He could see the spot where the horses had stood as their masters supped. Then he noticed something peculiar: the knights had apparently separated. One knight had headed one way, and the other had gone in the opposite direction. Had they separated in the hope of covering more ground more quickly, or had they quarreled? As Gisburne was one of the knights in question, Nasir suspected the latter.

The Saracen studied the tracks again, trying to decide which set to follow, when he heard the rustle of leaves and some growled curses just beyond the clearing.

"God's Legs, I've been going in circles!" a voice exclaimed. It wasn't Gisburne.

"Sir George?" Nasir called.

"Yes," the voice answered. There was more rustling and the snapping of at least a dozen twigs before Sir George's white horse burst into the clearing.

"Why, it's you, my Saracen friend!" the knight cried, dismounting his horse. "_Salaam aleikum, afreet._"

Nasir stared at Sir George, one eyebrow raised. Then he started to laugh silently. "You just called me a demon," Nasir explained when he saw Sir George's baffled expression.

"My friend, forgive me!" Sir George cried. "I didn't mean it."

"_Maalesh_," [4] Nasir said, shrugging.

"That's most kind of you. Most kind." Sir George scratched his head and looked around as if he was trying to remember something.

Nasir hated to bring up the subject, but the question had to be asked. "Where is Gisburne?"

Sir George frowned and looked down at one boot. "Guy and I have parted company. I told him about the quest and…Well, he's not the man I thought he was."

"Gisburne is – " Nasir had been about to insult his enemy but, given Sir George's attachment to the younger knight, he curbed his tongue instead. "Gisburne is Gisburne," Nasir stated at last.

"Yes!" Sir George exclaimed excitedly. "That's it! That's it exactly! Gisburne is Gisburne and that's where my troubles lie."

Nasir placed a hand on Sir George's shoulder. "Your troubles are over. Your granddaughter is safe."

The knight's mouth fell open and he gaped at Nasir in astonishment. "You found her? Where is she? Take me to her."

"She is at Halstead. We will go there tomorrow."

"But I want to go now."

"It will be dark soon. We will go back to the camp and travel to Halstead at first light. Robin and Tuck are heading there," Nasir added when Sir George still looked uncertain. "They will protect her until you come."

"All right," Sir George said, after a moment's hesitation. He still wasn't entirely happy with the situation, but knowing that men he trusted would be protecting his granddaughter helped put his mind to rest.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin, Marion and Tuck managed to reach Halstead before nightfall, though the sun had already started its descent as they headed towards the gate. Marion rang the bell, and a nun quickly admitted them inside.

"We'd like to see Lady Enide," Marion said. The nun nodded and went off to fetch her. They had only been standing there a short time when they heard the bell ring again. Marion stepped outside to see who it was, but returned almost instantly. "It's Gisburne!" she hissed.

"What?" Robin cried.

"What's he doing here?" Tuck asked.

"Maybe he found out that Enide was here," Marion suggested.

"Well, we can't let him find us here, even if we are on the same side for once," Robin said. They all looked around quickly for somewhere to hide as the bell began ringing more insistently.

"The chapel," Marion suggested, and the three of them dashed inside. Fortunately for them, it was empty.

Now the bell was ringing, and there was the sound of a fist pounding against the wooden door.

"Marion, who's at the gate?" a voice called. It was the nun who had gone to fetch Enide. "Marion, are you there?" They heard the nun sigh in disgust. "You'd think she was among those cutthroats again. Forgive me, my lady. I don't know where she could have gone."

"It's all right," Enide answered. "I'll find her. You'd better see who's at the gate, sister."

Robin, Marion and Tuck peered out of the chapel as the nun stepped outside. They might have escaped and tried to hide elsewhere, but Enide remained where she was.

Tuck grinned and almost rubbed his hands in glee. "This should be good," he whispered. "Gisburne probably thinks that she'll be happy to see him, but she'll spurn him. They usually do."

"They?" Marion asked.

"Oh, you know," Robin said, "Guinevere, Iseut…"

"Oh, here they come," Tuck announced. "Just you wait. She'll – "

Robin clamped a hand over the monk's mouth, and Tuck was forced to end his narrative. He doubted that Gisburne would have heard him anyway. He was too busy berating the nun for taking so long to meet him at the gate. Then Gisburne saw Enide and halted in mid-sentence. Judging by Gisburne's expression, he hadn't realized that Enide was at Halstead.

_He must have come here seeking shelter for the night_, Robin thought. For once, the ill-fated knight seemed to have had a stroke of luck.

"Enide?" Gisburne asked in disbelief. Tuck waited eagerly for Enide's words of reproof.

"Guy!" Enide threw her arms around Gisburne and hugged him tightly. Then, to everyone's surprise, she began kissing the stunned knight on the lips.

Tuck gulped and Robin and Marion stared at Enide and Gisburne with open mouths.

"My lady!" the nun exclaimed. "You-you can't do that here! This is a house of God! Stop it this instant!"

The nun's pleas fell on deaf ears. Gisburne had surrendered. Both arms were wrapped around Enide.

"Help! Help!" the nun shrieked. Two novices appeared and started giggling. Then the Prioress arrived and the giggling stopped. When the Prioress grasped Gisburne by the ear and pulled him away, the kissing stopped as well.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" the Prioress thundered at Gisburne.

"But-but I…She…Ow!"

The Prioress gave the knight's ear a sharp tug and dragged him to the gate.

"Guy! Reverend Mother, wait!" Enide protested. She took a step forward, but the nun who had fetched Enide had a firm grip on her arm.

"I'm locking you in your chamber," the nun said. Enide saw the fierce look in the nun's eyes and wisely chose to comply. Tuck, Robin and Marion stepped out of the chapel slowly as the nun escorted Enide to her chamber.

"That…that must have been in one of the books they wouldn't let us read," Tuck gasped.

His friends nodded mutely, mouths still open.

  


* * * * 

  
Enide had just sat herself down on the narrow bed to have a long sulk, and possibly refuse supper if it was brought to her, when there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Lady Enide? It's Marion. May I speak with you?"

"The door's locked. I can't let you in."

"I know. They've given me the key. What I wished to know is if you would be willing to speak to me." There was a pause before Marion added, "I've news of your grandfather."

Enide leapt off the bed. "You've seen him? He is well?"

"I have not seen him, but my friends have. Sir George is well and we expect he'll come here tomorrow. My lady, may I come in? I feel a little silly talking to a door."

Enide patted her hair and smoothed out her skirts. "You may enter," she said. The door opened and Marion walked into the chamber, accompanied by Robin and Tuck.

"These are my friends," Marion stated, gesturing to the two men, "Robin and Tuck."

Enide nodded and tried not to seem too impressed by the handsome face of the young man who kissed her hand. Then she remembered the names Marion had uttered. "You're Robin Hood!" she cried, as the realization suddenly hit her.

"Yes," Robin said, "and I didn't shoot Gisburne."

"I know. I just saw him. No, wait. What I mean to say is...So, my grandfather is well?"

"He is well, my lady, and he'll be happy to learn that you are safe."

"He is…He is your prisoner, then?"

"No, he was our guest, my lady," Tuck said.

"Did you rob him?"

"He had no money. He sang for his supper."

"And told us stories," added Robin.

"That's what Grandfather does best," Enide said, a faint tinge of bitterness in her voice. "He is happier living in the past than thinking about tomorrow."

"That cannot be true, my lady, for tomorrow he shall see you," Robin stated.

Enide stared at the outlaw for a moment then smiled. "Why on earth are you in a convent?" she whispered to the woman beside her. Marion blushed and might have answered if the door hadn't opened and a nun had appeared – Sister Agnes, in fact, with the tray of supper Enide had considered refusing.

"We should leave," Marion suggested when she saw both Enide and Tuck eyeing the plate of food hungrily. "We will return again in the morning. Sleep well, my lady."

"I will," Enide answered around a mouthful of bread.

After Enide's guests left, Sister Agnes kept the young woman company while she ate her meal. When Sister Agnes left, Enide noted with interest that she had forgotten to lock the door.

  


* * * * 

  
It was nightfall by the time Nasir and Sir George reached the outlaw camp. They flopped down wearily by the fire and gratefully accepted the bowls of stew John placed in their hands. Nasir noticed the stranger sitting with his friends, but assumed by his tattered clothing that he was a friend not a foe.

The other outlaws allowed the tired hungry men to finish their meal before they pressed them for information. Although Nasir tended to speak as few words as possible, he still managed to tell his friends the news.

They were surprised to learn that Marion had been in Sherwood and that it was she who had, in a sense, found Enide. John and Will exchanged amused smirks when they heard that Robin had insisted on accompanying Marion back to Halstead with the excuse that he wanted to meet Lady Enide. Even a grinning Much wasn't fooled by that story.

"You don't know the burden that has been lifted from my heart now that I know my granddaughter is safe," Sir George said after Nasir had finished his tale. "By Saint Thomas, if I ever find that worthless vagabond, I'll – " The stranger, who had looked more and more nervous as Nasir's narrative had progressed, lurched to his feet and might have run out of the camp if John hadn't managed to grab him. "My dear boy, what is it?" Sir George asked. "You don't look at all well."

"'E'll be all right," Will said, clapping the other guest on the shoulder. "Won't you?"

The vagabond nodded mutely and sat down.

Sir George studied the vagabond in interest. "I can see that this young man is troubled by just looking at him. What terrible plague is eating away at your soul?"

The vagabond looked as if he might try to bolt again. Will kept a firm hold on the man's shoulder.

"Speaking of plagues, where's Gisburne?" Will asked.

Nasir shot his friend a warning glance, but it was too late.

"Sir Guy and I have parted company. He refused to join me on my quest, so I told him that it would be best if we followed separate paths."

"Oh, that's…a pity, that is," Will replied, grinning. John jabbed him in the ribs.

"I realize that you and Guy aren't on the best of terms – " Sir George said. Will laughed loudly. "But I had hoped that maybe there was still some chance, that maybe it wasn't too late…Oh, never mind. I'm just a foolish old man with silly dreams in my head."

"No, that's not true," Much protested. "You're going on a quest."

"Am I?" Sir George shook his head. "I'm going to get some sleep. I must rise at first light and ride to this priory to retrieve my granddaughter. Then I'll be going home."

"But Sir George – !"

The knight raised his hand. "Enough. I'll hear no more about it."

Much closed his mouth. He looked confused and hurt.

Sir George's heart softened. "I could use some company on my journey…if you wish to come with me tomorrow."

Much smiled slowly and nodded.

  


* * * * 

  
Will returned from his watch in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark, but he had no trouble finding John, whose shaggy head was just visible in the moonlight, the soft rumble of his snores pinpointing his location. Will stepped over Much carefully and was about to tap John on the shoulder, when he noticed that something was wrong. The outlaw stood frozen for a few moments, trying to determine what was amiss. Then he heard a twig snap just outside the perimeter of their camp. Will pulled out his sword and crept silently towards the source of the noise. Through the trees, he could discern a dark shape. He squinted and studied the form more closely. Suddenly he knew who it was.

He treaded towards the man without a sound then, when he was directly behind him, he brought his lips close to the man's ear.

"Going somewhere?" the outlaw whispered. The man started violently and would have screamed in fright if Will hadn't had the foresight to clasp a hand over the man's mouth. Will felt the vagabond's warm breath on his fingers as the man fought to steady his nerves. Will removed his hand. "After all we've done for you, you'd just leave without saying nothing?" the outlaw demanded.

"I had no choice," the vagabond answered hoarsely. "You heard the old man. If he finds out that I took his granddaughter, he'll kill me."

"'Ow's 'e going to find out? We weren't going to tell 'im."

"It's not just him. There's Gisburne."

Will laughed. "Gisburne! You're worried about Gisburne? 'E's lost somewhere in Sherwood. Lost for good if we're lucky."

"I'm not: lucky, that is."

"No, me neither," Will admitted. He sighed and leaned against a tree. "Where would you go? If it isn't Gisburne chasing you, it will be some other Norman pig."

"I'd settle for any place far away from Nottingham."

"You'd be safer 'ere with us in Sherwood."

"Living as an outlaw? Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?"

"Why not? We do it. Besides, you're already an outlaw. You've just been stealin' from the wrong people, that's all."

"And I keep what I steal," the vagabond added.

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect, are they? Look, stay with us until Robin comes back. 'E'll know what to do."

"You think he'll help me?"

"Don't see why not."

"I've heard that Robin Hood is a good and clever man."

"Aye, well, don't tell 'im that. It'll go straight to 'is 'ead. But it's true. If anyone can 'elp you, 'e can. 'E always knows what to do."

  


* * * * 

  
"What do you think we should do?" Tuck asked.

"You're asking me?" Robin said.

"You're the leader."

"That doesn't mean I _always_ know what to do. I've-I've never had to deal with this…kind of thing before."

"And you think I have?"

"Well, we have to do something. Sir George will probably be here soon."

"Perhaps we should look again. You search the infirmary this time and I'll – "

"What are you doing?" The outlaws turned quickly. Marion had crept up behind them. She had heard two familiar voices in the garden and had decided to investigate.

"We've been looking for you," Tuck stated quickly. "We've got trouble."

"Trouble?" Marion asked in alarm. "What sort of trouble?"

"Lady Enide has disappeared again," Robin said. "We haven't been able to find her anywhere."

Marion stared at Robin, observing the flustered expression on his face. She started to giggle. "Lady Enide isn't missing. You haven't been able to find her because she's still in bed!"

"What?" Robin and Tuck cried.

"But it's almost midday!"

"Is she ill?"

"I'm not sure," Marion answered. "One of the sisters went to see her this morning, but Enide ordered her to leave. She'll have to stir from her bed soon, though. Her grandfather is here. That's why I was looking for you."

"Where is he?"

"He's speaking with the Reverend Mother. I'll take you to him." Marion led her friends from the garden, and they entered the priory.

They found the Prioress and Sir George in the chapel, engaged in a quiet but earnest conversation. Sir George stopped talking abruptly and stood. The Prioress blushed and, for an instant, resembled a shy young girl.

"Is everything all right, Reverend Mother?" Marion asked cautiously.

"Yes, everything is fine, Marion," the Prioress answered with a small smile.

Sir George took a step towards Robin and held out his hand. "I want to thank you for sending word to me so quickly about my granddaughter and for protecting her until I could be here to ensure her safety myself."

Robin took the knight's hand willingly. "It was no trouble, Sir George. Where is Nasir? Is he with you?"

"No, he's back at your camp. Much accompanied me instead. He kindly offered to see to my horse while I found Enide."

"And here he is now," Tuck said.

Much entered the chapel, saw Marion, and hugged her immediately. "Where's Lady Edith?" he asked.

"It's 'Enide,' Much, and, last I heard, she was still in her chamber," Marion answered.

"Why, that doesn't sound like Enide at all," Sir George said in concern. "I hope she's not ill…I must go to her at once."

"Of course, Sir George," the Prioress said. "Marion, will you take him to Lady Enide's chamber?"

"Yes, Reverend Mother."

"I'm sure she's fine, Sir George," Tuck said as they walked out of the chapel.

"I hope you're right, my friend."

They walked in silence until Robin could no longer resist asking the question that had been forming in his mind. "Sir George, why did the Prioress blush when we came in?"

"What? Oh!" The knight started chuckling. "I met her once when she was…Well, she was younger than Much here. She was a bold spirited girl. I never thought she would become a nun!"

  


* * * * 

  
Sir George knocked loudly on the door of his granddaughter's chamber. "Enide?" he called. "Enide!"

"Grandfather? Hold on. I'm coming." There was a pause and the sound of movement inside the room. Then the door opened and Enide was throwing her arms around Sir George's neck. The knight held her tightly and it looked as if he was trying to hold back tears. Robin looked at Marion with a grin and noticed that she was staring at something else entirely. Guy of Gisburne was standing by the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"The Reverend Mother told you to leave," Marion said coldly.

Gisburne smirked. "Sister Wolfshead follows rules now, does she? I never thought I'd live to see that day."

At the sound of Gisburne's voice, Sir George's attention snapped from his granddaughter to the man by the window. "What is he doing here?" the older knight demanded.

"Sir Guy has kindly offered to escort me to Nottingham Castle."

"She'll need to stay somewhere while you go off on your quest," Gisburne said as Sir George glared at him.

"Quest?" Enide asked eagerly. "Is that why you were going to Nottingham?"

Sir George met Enide's gaze reluctantly. "It doesn't matter now. We're going home."

"Home? But what about your quest?" Enide pouted and laid her head against his arm.

"Because of this quest I almost lost you. I won't allow that to happen again."

"But your quest meant so much to you, Sir George," Robin said. "You can't abandon it now."

"I can and I will."

"But, Grandfather – " Enide began.

"No, I have made up my mind. We're both going home. Gather what you need, girl, and then we'll be on our way."

Enide exchanged a quick look with Gisburne and, for an instant, it looked as if she might object. Then she saw the stern look on Sir George's face and quickly complied. She only had the one gown with her, the one she was wearing, so she sat on the edge of the bed and began to braid her hair into two plaits.

"I'm not a child, you know," she stated peevishly. "I can be left unattended."

"I _did_ leave you unattended. You traipsed off to Nottingham and were kidnapped by a vagabond!"

"That could have happened to anyone. Besides, I only followed Guy to the alehouse because of you."

Sir George laughed. "Because of me." He didn't sound convinced.

"I had to know you were safe, Grandfather, and as I knew you would be coming to see Guy – "

"I told her to stay at the castle," Gisburne said.

"No, you didn't," Enide scoffed. "You just ran off as soon as you had received word of your precious vagabond."

"Yes, and I would have caught him if it hadn't been for you."

"Oh, I see. It's my fault now that I was kidnapped, is it?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, and I suppose it was my fault that the vagabond hit you on the head!"

"Well – "

She stood up, only one braid complete, and stormed over to her grandfather. "And this quest of yours. Am I to blame for that too? Speak up. Say it if it's true. Grandfather…?" The knight was staring fixedly at the bed. "Grandfather!" Enide repeated, fear creeping into her voice. Sir George moved slowly towards the bed.

"There's blood on that pillow…" Sir George whispered, pointing to the few drops that had stained it. Suddenly Sir George flew across the chamber, his fist smashing into Gisburne's face.

"Grandfather!" Enide shrieked.

"You have defiled my granddaughter!" Sir George shouted. "I'll kill you!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Gisburne demanded, touching his nose gingerly. When he pulled his hand away it was smeared with blood. Sir George grabbed him by the front of his tunic and hauled him back on his feet. Then Gisburne found himself pinned against a wall, Sir George's furious dark eyes only inches away.

"You were hit on the head, and now I find drops of blood on my granddaughter's pillow," Sir George hissed.

"You-you have no proof," Gisburne countered weakly.

"No proof?" Sir George thundered. "There's a lump on your head and blood on her pillow! That's my proof!"

"That blood could have come from anywhere."

"Oh, you mean there's another man in this priory who wounded his head? I was under the impression that there were no men here at all except for us!"

"Sir George, surely your granddaughter would never commit such a terrible sin," Tuck said, not relishing the idea of seeing more blood shed in the priory.

Enide placed a hand on Sir George's arm and tried ineffectually to pull the older knight away from the younger one. "Grandfather, do you really think so little of me that you would suspect that I…that we…Oh!" Enide stared at her grandfather in haughty silence for a moment, absently rubbing the back of her right hand with her left thumb. Then she looked down at her hand and studied the scratch she had acquired during her frantic escape through Sherwood. "Do you see this scratch, Grandfather? Grandfather!" This time she did manage to pull him away. "Look at my hand." Sir George lifted her hand and studied the long red line that marked her skin. Enide extricated her hand and lay down on the bed. She rolled onto her side and rested her hand on the stained pillow. "Is it not possible that the blood on this pillow came from my hand?" she asked.

"But…but his head…The pillow…Oh, my dear child, could it be so?"

Enide sat up but said nothing.

Sir George turned to Gisburne, who was still standing against the wall. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

"I…I'll be in the chapel," Sir George said quietly. "Come when you're ready, Enide."

"I'm ready now," she answered, still braiding the second plait as she rose from the bed. Sir George nodded curtly and walked out the door.

Gisburne lifted his eyes to meet Enide's gaze. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the chamber. The outlaws followed them silently. The knight and lady had apparently forgotten about them.

"Idiot!" Enide hissed as she and Gisburne headed down the corridor. "I knew you should have bandaged your head!"

"What? Are you a physician now?" Gisburne retorted. Enide smacked him on the back of the head, ensuring that the knight might have to see one when he returned to Nottingham.

Tuck didn't look particularly well either. He had stopped walking and was staring at the knight and the lady in horror as they continued down the corridor. "He…She…They…" He crossed himself.

Robin frowned sympathetically and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Lancelot and Guinevere, remember?"

  


* * * * 

  
Sir George, Enide and Gisburne were standing by the altar in uncomfortable silence. Three heads turned to the door quickly, and even Gisburne seemed relieved when he saw the outlaws enter the chapel.

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," Sir George said.

"I'm glad you didn't," Robin answered. "I was hoping you would join us for another meal in Sherwood before setting off on your journey."

Sir George shook his head. "After everything you've done for us already, we couldn't possibly impose."

"Then allow us to escort you through Sherwood," Tuck suggested.

"You can't say it's an imposition," Robin added, "because we're traveling through Sherwood as well."

"Then it would be foolish of me to refuse such excellent company," Sir George said.

Gisburne couldn't hide a snigger.

"Do you have something to say, Guy?" Sir George demanded sternly.

"Not a word. I'll leave you to your 'excellent company'. I should be in Nottingham." Gisburne took a step, but Sir George pulled him back.

"Guy, there's something I need to say to you and if I don't say it now I don't know if I ever will."

Gisburne's eyes narrowed and he stared at the knight for a long time. "What is it?" he said at last.

Sir George stood directly in front of Gisburne and clasped him by the shoulders. "I thought you were my last hope, that because you had been my last squire, all that was left of my courage, strength and honour was stored somewhere inside of you. They were the virtues I tried to bequeath to you, but I was too late, wasn't I? You had already received your inheritance."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

Sir George smiled sadly and laid a hand on the younger knight's cheek. "No, this time I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. All too well, I fear."

Gisburne stood frozen for an instant, then pulled himself away. "Safe journey, Sir George," he uttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He walked quickly away from the altar.

"Guy," Enide called. He stopped and turned abruptly. She was holding up the handkerchief that was stained with his blood. "Won't you take this?"

The corners of Gisburne's mouth rose slightly, almost betraying a smile. He shook his head, turned again, and left the chapel.

  


* * * * 

  
The knight had almost reached his horse when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"You're not going to arrest us? Gather your men to hunt us down?"

"Not today," Gisburne said.

"Still searching for the vagabond?" There was the faintest hint of sarcasm in the outlaw's voice.

"I'll find him," Gisburne stated angrily, "and when I do he'll swing, just as you'll swing one day, Wolfshead."

"But not today."

"You're going to escort Sir George and his granddaughter through Sherwood. You said you would."

"You say that as if you trust me," Robin said in surprise.

Gisburne laughed sharply. "Trust you? I'd never trust you."

"Then why – ?"

"You won't kill him. He's like one of your precious serfs. He believes in you, would probably support you if you asked him to. You need him. You want to keep him alive."

"Yes, I want to keep him alive, but I want him to live because he's a good man and I like him, not because I need him. You're the one who needs him, but you can't see it. He reached out to you and you pushed him away."

"Is that what you think?" Gisburne asked coldly.

"Yes, that's what I think."

"Then you're an even bigger fool than he is." Gisburne turned and started to walk away.

"You liked him once. What happened? What changed? Is what he said true?" Gisburne stopped for a moment. Robin thought he might choose to answer the question, but then the knight started walking again. He didn't look back.

  


* * * * 

  
"We can leave when you wish, Sir George," Robin said when he entered the chapel. "Are you both ready?"

"Yes," Sir George replied.

"No," Enide answered. Her grandfather turned to her quickly. "I'm staying here," she explained.

"Here? But-but we're going home."

"No, you're going on your quest. I'll stay here and wait for your return."

"But…No! We've discussed this, Enide. I can't risk losing you again because of – "

"It's not a foolish, old man's dream! It's your dream and it's what my father would have wanted. Brother Tuck has been telling me of your quest. It's noble and good and I would never forgive myself if you sacrificed it because of me."

"Now, Enide, look – "

"I'm staying in this priory, Grandfather, and that's all there is to it."

"By Saint Thomas, the girl is more stubborn than I am!" Sir George cried, unable to conceal the faint hint of pride in his voice. He placed an arm around Enide's shoulders and drew her to him. "It's a sweet gesture, my dear, but I can hardly venture out on a quest without a squire, can I?"

"Then find one," Enide said.

"What?"

"Find another squire."

Sir George stared at her blankly. "But Guy was my last squire. He was the only one left."

"No, you made him your last squire. It's time you found another one to take his place."

"I think she's right, Sir George," Robin said.

Sir George still looked uncertain.

"Enide would be well looked after here," Marion said.

"Yes, I know that, child," Sir George answered. "I just don't like the idea of Enide staying in a priory so close to Nottingham and that varlet – I mean vagabond."

"Sir George, I promise that if any unwelcome visitors come, I'll take care of them," Marion stated firmly.

"You'll…take care of them?"

"Oh, yes," Robin said, grinning at Marion.

Sir George smiled himself, finally feeling comforted.

  


* * * * 

  
"What do you reckon they're lost?" John muttered lazily, tossing a twig into the fire.

"Much has no sense of direction," Will said, yawning and stretching his limbs. "They're probably goin' around in circles."

"Do you really think they're lost?" the vagabond asked, almost sounding hopeful.

"With Much as a guide? I doubt they made it as far as Wickham, let alone 'Alstead. Now, if Much had just listened to me last night – "

Suddenly a young man crashed into the camp and lunged at Will.

"Much!"

The young man, employing a move John had taught him, managed to slam Will on his back. "I'm not lost! Me and Sir George got to Halstead just fine!"

"I know," Will gasped, managing to roll Much off his stomach.

Much's forehead creased in confusion. "You know? But you said – "

"We could see that thick head of yours behind that tree couldn't we, you daft fool," John said.

"You could not!"

"Aye, lad, we could."

Much frowned and swatted Will's hand away as the other outlaw tried to ruffle his curls.

"So where are the others, then?" Will asked, rubbing his hand.

"Right here," a voice announced, and Will found a sword resting against his throat.

"Robin," Will growled in greeting.

"Oh, very good," another voice said, a voice that could only belong to Sir George. "You had Much here distract them, while you crept up on them."

Will glared at Much, who was grinning from ear to ear. "Why, you – you…"

Robin pulled Albion away and Sir George found a place for himself near the fire. Tuck had already started preparing another meal.

"What was that all about?" Will demanded.

"Sir George wanted to know about our defences," Robin explained cheerfully.

"It looks like they could use some work," Tuck said, tossing some herbs into his pot.

"But-but it was Much!" Will protested. "'Ow was I supposed to know that – ?"

"And Nasir never gave us any warning!" John added, glaring at the Saracen who had just entered the camp.

"Your leader was demonstrating to me how important it is to post a sentinel like our friend, Nasir."

"And what can happen when you don't," Robin added.

"Or what can happen when Nasir doesn't give us the signal," John grumbled.

"All right, I understand about Nasir, but what part was Much supposed to be playing again?" Will asked.

"I was the distraction," Much proclaimed, wearing an even wider grin than before. Scarlet nodded slowly then jumped on the young man, wrestling him to the ground.

"Where's Lady Edith?" John asked as Will and Much rolled past him.

"Sir George has decided to go on his quest after all," Robin said, smiling at Sir George. "Lady _Enide_ has decided to stay at Halstead."

John glanced at the vagabond, who seemed very relieved to hear the news.

Robin saw the look pass between the two men and decided it was time that he was introduced to this stranger. "Who's your friend, John?"

"Ah…uh…this is…uh…"

Will scrambled quickly to his feet, leaving a groaning Much nursing his knee. He grabbed Robin by the arm and pulled him out of earshot. "'E's the vagabond," Will whispered, casually brushing some dirt from his shirt.

"What? You mean that's the man who – ?"

"Shh!" Will hissed. "Sir George doesn't know."

"Well, I can see that: Sir George hasn't killed him yet!"

"I told the vagabond you'd 'elp 'im."

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Look, 'e only took 'is granddaughter because Gisburne was chasing 'im. 'E never really wanted to kidnap 'er."

Robin sighed. "All right. We'll…we'll think of something."

Will thumped Robin on the back. "I knew you'd 'elp. You won't tell Sir George, will you?"

"Sir George has already tried to kill Gisburne today. I think he's had enough excitement for now."

"Sir George tried to kill Gisburne?" Will asked eagerly. "When? Where? Back at 'Alstead? Is Gisburne 'urt? Is 'e going to die?"

Robin shook his head and returned to the fire. He found Sir George and the rest of his men discussing Sir George's search for a new squire.

"There must be dozens of squires who would jump at the chance to go on a quest," Tuck said, trying a little too hard to sound enthusiastic.

Sir George favoured him with a sad smile. "A boy might be willing, especially once he's tired of training in the castle yard and cleaning armour, but his father would never allow it."

"Why don't you pick 'im?" Will joked, pointing a finger at the startled vagabond. "'E's not doing anything."

Sir George's gaze immediately fell on the vagabond as he began to appraise him. Robin also studied him, deep in thought. The vagabond shrank from this close inspection and glanced wildly around the camp, vainly looking for some means of escape.

Robin had started smiling. "Why not?" he said. "He can't be any worse than Gisburne."

"You're not serious!" Will cried with a laugh.

"Well, it would solve his problem and help Sir George."

The vagabond stood up. John pulled him back down.

"He's not of noble birth," Sir George said.

Robin gazed fondly at the other outlaws. "No, but then neither are my friends and they are the best men I've ever known."

"Hmm…" Sir George conceded. "Do you know anything about the rules of chivalry?" he asked the vagabond.

"No."

"Do you know how to care for weapons and armour?"

"No."

"Have you any training in combat?"

"No."

"Can you at least use a sword?"

"A little."

"Hmm…Well, I suppose I could teach him. Do you have a horse?"

"Aye," John began, "it's over – "

Will kicked his friend's leg, but Sir George had already seen the horse tied to the tree.

"Why, it looks remarkably like my granddaughter's horse," Sir George said, looking at the vagabond suspiciously.

"It is her horse, my lord," the vagabond confessed.

Will jumped in quickly. "'E found it wandering in Sherwood and, as 'e couldn't find its owner, 'e brought it back 'ere."

"Well…I suppose Enide won't be needing a horse at Halstead…" Sir George studied the vagabond again and suddenly smiled. "You'll do, boy."

"What?" the vagabond exclaimed. "But I-I'm not…worthy. I don't deserve this…great honour."

"Nonsense."

"Sir George, there's something I need to tell you. I'm the – Oww!"

Now Will had kicked the vagabond.

"He's the perfect squire for you," Robin said.

"Yes, yes, I can see that," Sir George answered, gazing kindly at the vagabond. He held out his hand and, after a moment of hesitation, the vagabond took it gingerly. "I'm happy that you have agreed to join me on this quest – But how silly of me. I haven't asked you your name!"

"Oh…uh…it's not important," the vagabond muttered.

"Well, I can't keep calling you 'boy' or say 'You, there, come!'"

"You can tell us, lad," Tuck prodded gently. "Go on."

The vagabond swallowed and nodded reluctantly. "It's…It's Perceval."

John and Will immediately howled in laughter, Robin and Tuck looked astounded, and Sir George was ecstatic.

"It is a good name," the knight said. "Your father chose well."

"Actually, I never had no father…"

Sir George grinned. "Neither did half of my other squires. It makes no difference to me." He stood up and, when the vagabond remained seated, he beckoned the younger man to rise as well. "We should be on our way."

"But the meal," Tuck said in alarm. "It's not ready yet."

"We're fasting, remember?"

"F-fasting?" the vagabond asked. He didn't sound too pleased at the prospect.

"Yes," Sir George replied simply. He grabbed his new squire's arm and practically dragged him to his horse.

"Uh…this thing we're looking for…"

"The reliquary of Saint Cuthbert."

"Aye. It's…uh…worth a lot, is it?"

"My dear boy, it's priceless."

"Really?"

Robin shot the vagabond a warning glare. "If you find the reliquary, you'll be returning it to its rightful place."

"_If_ we find it?" Sir George said. "You should have more confidence in our quest. I've finally found my squire. How can it fail?" He threw an arm around the vagabond, who looked nervous, nauseous and, strangely enough, excited too.

Perhaps Sir George had found his squire after all.

  


* * * * 

  
[1] Taken from Raimbaut de Vaqueiras' _Kalenda Maia ni fueills de faia._

[2] Master of the sword, the servant of God.

[3] _Pité_ means compassion, _largesse_ is generosity, _franchise_ is a free and frank spirit and _courtoisie_ represents courtliness, especially towards women.

[4] Oh, well…


End file.
